


Fruits

by sleepscribbling



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepscribbling/pseuds/sleepscribbling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into Brittany's mind, as she eats an apple and thinks about her girlfriend. Sort of crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fruits

Santana... was like an apple. She came in a dozen of different shades, from bright, fiery red to reddish pink and softer rose, even occasionally yellow or green. But she was always loud – apples had such a satisfying _crunch_ – and she had soft skin. Santana was also round and full of tiny seeds – yeah, this was not the best comparison.

Santana... was like an orange. Even when you got the peel off her, she was still divided into many sections; it took plenty of careful peeling to get to the best ones. Though there were moments when she was sweet, she was always acidic. Santana also had plenty of juice, if you knew where to look. She came primarily from South America, and could probably be pulped and squeezed and sold commercially – maybe she wasn't an orange, either.

Santana... was like a banana. She was curvy, ripened to be yellowish-brown, and was pretty damn phallic... no.

Santana... was like an avocado. Though she looked hard on the outside, she yielded to gentle pressure when squeezed in the right ways. She had a large pit, which was potentially toxic to animals. Santana also made excellent guacamole. And if she sat around on the kitchen counter for too long, Lord Tubbington would come along and nibble on her. Or something.

Santana... was like a blueberry. She was blue in name, and blue on the bush, but she was really purple or indigo more often. She could definitely stain your teeth. On the other hand, you couldn't really see a blueberry talking shit about all the people it couldn't stand, or going to prom with a beard to protect its secret. (Could blueberries even grow beards?)

Santana... was like a bunch of grapes. She had lots of parts, usually came seedless, and was quick to pop into your mouth or your bed. And honestly, grapes could be real bitches.

Santana... was like an eggplant. Except for the fact that she was nothing like an eggplant.

~

Brittany cut her train of thought short and went back to the bedroom, holding the half-eaten apple in one hand. She sat down on her bed beside Santana, who was wearing just a bra and still slightly disoriented coming off her orgasm.

Santana grabbed the apple, bit off a large chunk, and handed it back to her; she moved in the fluid, wordless way they had developed, that was perfect now they were girlfriends as well as lovers. Brittany took another small bite, chewed it, then said, “I don't get why some guys call gay and Lebanese people 'fruits.' With you, I really just can't see it.”

Santana looked her girlfriend up and down, and decided this was one of those times Brittany was being especially brilliant and she really shouldn't ask.  



End file.
